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“Wow, it sure took you guys a while to get changed!” Midoriya waved enthusiastically as the current Class 1-A entered the training area. “So, who are you fighting? Bakugou or Todoroki?”
“It better be me,” Kacchan snarled. “I’ve been itching for a good fight.”
“No one in their right mind would have chosen you ,” Shouto said under his breath.
“Actually, Problem Child,” Aizawa said with a smile that had alarm bells going off in Izuku’s head screaming logical ruse incoming! . “It was a unanimous decision that they would be fighting you.”
“WHAT?” Bakugou yelled, explosions going off.
“Me?” Izuku stutters. He’s sure his face is a bright, flaming red. “They don’t want to fight Kaachan? Or what about Todoroki?”
Aizawa shakes his head. “They all wanted to fight you .”
“This is bullshit,” Bakugou spits. “If the nerd doesn’t want to fight, let me do it!” The angry boy whirls on him, and he automatically takes a step back, hands raised. “You don’t want to do it, right shitty Deku?”
“No, let Izuku do it,” Shouto comes to his rescue.
“Fine,” Bakugou grumbles. “Show these twerps whose boss.”
The twerps in question look apprehensive as Izuku hesitantly shrugs off his jacket, their eyes tracking as he folds it and places it on the sidelines.
“What’s with the arm thing?” One of the girls asks, eyes drawn to the black sleeve on Izuku’s right arm. “Is it support gear?”
“It’s none of your business,” Todoroki snaps.
The girl freezes in fear, and Izuku gives her a gentle smile. “It’s ok, I don’t mind.” He turns to his boyfriend. “And while I appreciate it, Shouto, don’t bite their heads off. They’re young.”
Shouto frowns. “You almost died.”
“ What !” The class exclaims.
Izuku looks to Aizawa for permission, and at the man’s nod, he slides the sleeve off. He hates the way the scar looks - ugly and twisted, skin marred and raised. It covers the whole top of his arm with faint lines trailing down. Even after all these years, it’s red and raw instead of white.
“Holy shit,” he hears one of the first years whisper.
“Not pretty, right?” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Our first year, the training camp run by the Wild Wild Pussycats was attacked by the League of Villains, which I’m sure you all heard about. Mandalay’s nephew was attacked by the villain Muscular, and I was the only one fast enough to get there. ”
The girl from before bows. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, eyes on the ground. “He gave you that scar.”
“Azuma, stand up,” Aizawa says. “Problem Child did that to himself.”
“Wait,” the boy with wings interjects, shifting his weight from talon to talon. “Now I’m confused.”
“This,” he says, sliding the sleeve back on, “is what happens when you don’t know your limits. My quirk came in late, because if I got it any sooner I probably would have blown my arms off. Even then, I broke a lot of bones my first year.
I knew the risks, but I couldn’t have beaten that villain without using my power at over 100% when my body couldn’t even handle 20. I’m extremely lucky my arm is still functional. So,” he smiles, “Let this be a lesson in self-restraint.”
“Dude,” a girl with white hair says. “That’s so badass.”
“Thank you, Problem Child, for that lesson in self-control,” Aizawa flops on the ground, yellow sleeping bag cocooned around him. “Wake me up when it’s over.”
“Yes sir!” Izuku grins.
Aizawa mutters something about eye damage then promptly rolls over and falls asleep. The Class 1-A students spread out, dividing themselves into groups. The boy with wings takes to the air, flapping gently to keep himself hovering as he instructs his classmates.
So that’s the leader , Izuku thinks. Right now, he’s the basis of their strategy. They don’t really seem to be objecting, meaning they’re used to following his plans. Which means …
One For All thrums beneath his skin, green lightning flashing as he activates Full Cowl. The nerves of presenting in front of fellow students are gone, replaced by the familiar rush of adrenaline and the beating of his own heart.
“Come at me,” he grins, and the fight begins in earnest.
The close range fighters charge. An abnormally long arm shoots for him, and he twists, letting it rocket past his head and embed in the stone behind him. Izuku grabs the arm and flips himself up, settling into a kneeling position before launching himself into a flip like a swimmer off a diving board.
He lands behind the four students, one still trying to get his arm out of the concrete. Izuku sweeps low, knocking out the kid’s legs and he goes down hard, arm trapped.
“Make sure you always know your surroundings!” He says, dancing under a punch before sliding between the legs and aiming a well placed kick to the side. “You want to be careful that your quirk is always an advantage and not a hindrance. Always have a plan!”
“Fall back!” The winged kid shouts, and the remaining two close range fighters comply. He can’t obviously tell what their quirks are, but he doesn’t have to. Although they’re not bad, they still don’t have the same close-knit teamwork his class did in their first year, forced onto them from surviving villain attack after villain attack, every event a fight for their lives.
Izuku is thankful for what that means, even if it is hurting them right now.
“Oi, Deku, hurry this the hell up!” Kaachan shouts. “We have patrol later!”
Izuku huffs. “I am trying to teach them, not just beat them up.”
Time for action. He activates Float, taking him into the air until he’s parallel with the winged boy. Without giving him time to react, he sends Black Whip snaking out, wrapping around his wings and immobilizing him, pulling him to the ground. The darkness winds around the kid’s limbs and mouth, gagging him and stopping him from communicating.
As Izuku predicted, the class falls apart.
Some kids lunge at him, attacks sloppy and predictable, which he dodges with ease, using Propel to maneuver himself through the teenagers with ease.
The sky above him darkens, and he looks up to see a massive cloud. The girl with the white hair is hovering, arms outstretched and palms glowing.
“You may be a badass,” she grins, “but you’re not the only one with a little lightning.”
His eyes widen and he shoots himself forward into a roll. The lightning arcs down besides him, cracking the pavement.
“That’s so cool!” He gushes as he Propel flips him to his feet. “Can you summon any sort of weather, or just lightning? What’s your voltage limit?”
A tail wooshes over his head as he ducks, grabbing on to the appendage and spinning twice before launching the poor student into his fellow classmates like a bowling ball.
Strike! Izuku thinks victoriously.
From that point on, it’s easy to use Black Whip to make quick work of anyone still standing and restrain those he’s already taken out. In under five minutes, the entirety of Class 1-A is sitting in a pile in the center of the training ground, bound by Izuku’s second quirk and utterly helpless.
“Aizawa-sensei,” the boy with wings calls, squirming uncomfortably from where the appendages were pinned to his back. “We’re done.”
The yellow sleeping bag rolls over, and the exhausted face of Aizawa peers out through a mat of tangled hair.
“That was fast,” the teacher remarks dryly, shamelessly using the wall to lever himself into a sitting position. “I was hoping my nap would be longer.”
Midoriya grimaces. “Sorry, Aizawa-sensei.” He releases Black Whip and starts helping first years to their feet. “School is almost over, though!”
A cold hand lands on his shoulder and he yelps. “Shouto!”
His boyfriend laughs. “I thought Bakugou was having a conniption.”
“I can fucking hear you, Icy-Hot,” Kaachan snaps from somewhere behind him. The blonde stalks forward until the three of them are standing side-by-side. “Good job, shitty Deku, or whatever. You beat Togata’s time in dealing with us, that’s for fucking sure.”
“So,” Aizawa drawls, looking entirely too pleased with himself at the outcome. “What lessons have we learned from this? Sando.”
The boy with wings bristles. “We need to work on our team work,” he says finally. “It was sloppy, unrefined, disjointed, and absolute shit .”
Kaachan snorts. “Damn right.”
“Against a powerhouse like Midoriya,” he continues, “We were completely helpless once the original plan fell apart.”
“We couldn’t even touch him!” the white-haired girl groans. “Dude, is precognition one of your quirks or something?”
“Yeah, how come you only used three?”
“What are the other ones?”
“Can you show us?”
“You’re so cool!”
“Um,” Izuku steps back, a little overwhelmed.
“One at a time, don’t harass the Problem Child,” Aizawa seems resigned to his fate. “Sando, you’re correct in your assessment - the teamwork was terrible. For the next month, we’ll be doing joint exercises with Class 1-B in order to improve that.”
“But,” Aizawa continues, logical ruse smile back in full force. He’s not even Izuku’s teacher anymore, and it’s still terrifying. “Depending on how well you do, I’ll give you another go at Midoriya. He did, after all,” now the smile is directed at him , shit, “only use three of his quirks.”
The girl with white hair breaks away from the rest of the cheering first years and makes a beeline for him. “My name is Morita,” she says. “My quirk is Weather.” Her face goes very red all of the sudden, previous confidence disappearing. “Canyoupleasetrainme?”
“Uh,” Izuku says, bewildered. Is that what his muttering sounds like? “I’m sorry, I didn’t really catch that.”
She takes a deep breath. “I said, can you please train me?”
“What?” Izuku squacks. Her face falls, and he hastily waves her hands. “It’s not a no, of course I would love to train you, I’m just realized surprised you would want me to train you, that’s all!”
“So you’ll do it?”
He nods, and her face breaks out in a grin. “Sick!” She turns back to the rest of her class. “Hey losers, guess who’s gonna get trained by the future Symbol of Peace? Suck it!”
Class 1-A explodes as Bakugou stills beside him.
“What,” he growls, “did you just call that shitty nerd?”
“Kaachan, calm down.”
“THE FUTURE SYMBOL OF PEACE? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”
“Down, Bakugou. Good boy.”
“Deku, put a leash on your boyfriend before I explode his face.”
“That’s not very heroic, Kaachan.”
Pausing his attempts to reign in his class, Aizawa groans. “You three never change, do you?”